The Boy Who Died
by NicKenny
Summary: An AU fanfic, taking place after Voldemort kills Harry in the Forbidden Forest, only Harry doesn't come back to life, changing the course of the story forever. Will be seen through the eyes of Voldemort, Bellatrix, Hermione, Ron, Ginny and others, and will concern Voldemort's conquest of the world and the war that ensues.
1. Chapter One: The Boy Who Died

**Chapter One: The Boy Who Died**

**(A/N) Hi guys! Just a quick word before we begin. This story occurs after Voldemort kills Harry in the Forbidden Forest, only Harry doesn't come back to life. Other than that, the story will follow the world of Harry Potter as canonically as I can manage, barring one thing, which is that Fred was only wounded, not killed, during the Battle of Hogwarts. I don't own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters or places from the series, but do own any characters I create for use in this story. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy! :)**

**Lord Voldemort**

Hagrid placed the body at Voldemort's feet, and stood up slowly, tears flooding down from his oversized face.

A silence settled over those watching from the Entrance Hall, the finality of what they were witnessing crushing what spirits they had left. Professor McGonagall walked down the steps, her face white with shock, murmuring "No…" over and over. She reached the body and knelt down, resting her hand against the face of the boy that they had all placed their faith in, and had risked everything for. She broke the silence with her tears, no longer able to keep her sense of decorum against what she knew to be the end of all their struggles, all their hopes, all their dreams of a future without Voldemort's dark presence tainting the very essence of their lives.

_He was dead._

The voice, amplified so it could be heard over the voices of the now-wailing crowd, thundered through the rubble of what had once been one of the finest schools of witchcraft and wizardry in the world.

"Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone. The battle is won. You have lost half of your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you, and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman or child, will be slaughtered, as well every member of their family. Come out of the castle now, kneel before him, and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together."

A long silence greeted his words, broken only by the tears of those weeping. Some began to throw down their wands, which the Death Eaters cheered at, and were quickly followed by others, who had lost their fighting spirit upon seeing Harry's lifeless corpse.

However, a figure in the crowd drew his wand, yelling out the beginning to a curse before being disarmed by Voldemort in a flash of light. The figure was thrown to the ground, and Voldemort cocked his head, amused by this child, this _boy_.

"And who is this? Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?"

No one in the crowd spoke up. The boy himself remained mute, staring into Voldemort's with a look of such intense hatred that he almost laughed despite himself, amused at the boy's efforts.

He felt Bellatrix stir beside him as she coughed quietly and said "It is Neville Longbottom, my Lord. The boy who has been giving the Carrows so much trouble. The son of the Aurors, remember?"

Understanding dawned and he nodded. "Ah, yes, I remember. But you are pureblood, aren't you, my brave boy?"

_He must not be harmed. Enough magical blood had been spilt today. No doubt there are still enough of those with mud for blood to satisfy the appetites of even the most… volatile of my followers. _Thought Voldemort, glancing at Fenrir Greyback, who was practically salivating over the crowd.

The boy – Longbottom – stood up slowly, defiance still in his eyes. "So what if I am?" he demanded, looking straight into the eyes of the greatest Dark Lord in history.

_It was almost… moving. Almost._

Voldemort smiled. "You show spirit and bravery, and you come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom." He extended his hand, offering it to this boy, giving him one last chance to save his life.

The boy only glared back at him. "I'll join you when hell freezes over. Dumbledore's Army!"

Some of the crowd cheered with him, and Voldemort heard a wand being drawn to his left. He turned and looked into the eyes of Minerva McGonagall, her eyes red from tears, stripped of her confident demeanour, with rage in her eyes.

"You bastard." she muttered, pointing her wand at his chest. "Dumbledore should have killed you the second he laid eyes on you."

This was only received with laughter from Voldemort, as he lazily raised his wand. "Minerva, isn't it? Give in, my dear. Dumbledore is dead, Harry Potter is dead. Do you really wish to join them?"

"It won't be me that joins them, you monster!" she snarled as her first curse was cast, and was casually deflected by Voldemort. The battle took only a few moments, curses streaming from both parties faster than the eye could follow, but it ended with McGonagall on her knees, her wand broken, staring defiantly at him, her eyes showing no fear, only sadness and anger.

He stared down at her for a moment before turning to the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen," he muttered, his face utterly serious, his tone changing from mocking to dark, hinting at the rage within him. "The price of defiance."

A green light flashed from the end of his wand and struck McGonagall in the chest, knocking her to the ground. He glanced over at Bellatrix, her eyes shining with glee and anticipation, and gave her the reward she deserved. "The school is yours, my… faithful Bellatrix. Take the boy," motioning to the now weeping Neville Longbottom, kneeling beside McGonagall's lifeless body. "Make him come to… respect our way of life. Those of magical blood will be spared!" He intoned, his voice once again rising above the muttering and wailing of the crowd. "As for the rest…"

His eyes searched the crowd, noticing the girl who had been friends with Harry Potter, her hands clasped in those of a young red-haired boy, both their faces streaming with tears. Voldemort smiled smugly. "Do with them as you will."

The triumphant yells of the Death Eaters rang out as they stormed into the castle, casting spells to disarm and hold those whom they had been fighting, and the cries and yells of protest filled the castle, but Voldemort paid little heed to it, allowing Bellatrix to lead the assault, instead summoning Lucius Malfoy to him.

Lucius walked up slowly, his head bent reverentially, wincing with every scream that rang out from inside the castle. "Master." He murmured, kneeling at Voldemort's feet, "What is it that you want of me?"

"Lucius, Lucius, Lucius… What shall I do with you."

Malfoy glanced up, his eyebrows knotted in confusion. "My Lord."

"Don't pretend that you have been… pleased with how the world has changed since my return. I know how much you… chafe at the leash I have placed on you…" He turned and stared at the castle. "But look at us now, my greatest enemy, dead by my hand, the country fallen to my followers, the world itself in my hands." He was quiet for a moment before murmuring. "When this is over, I plan to rebuild this school. But we shall have no more Houses… no more… _Sorting._ No… the Slytherin house should be good enough for all who enter this school. The house of my ancestor… Perhaps one day you might reside here, my… old friend."

Malfoy stood up slowly and bowed, his face contorted with both terror and extreme greed. "My Lord is too generous, but nothing would give me greater pleasure than to see his will carried out."

Voldemort nodded curtly. "Very well. First, however, you must win back my favour."

"Anything."

"I will give you command of a group of Death Eaters, to travel to Ireland and discover the cause behind our agents… silence over the last few months. Britain may be mine, both the Ministry and Hogwarts may have fallen before me, but my appetites have not yet nearly been satisfied. The world shall be mine, and wizards shall not have to hide from the Muggle world any longer, but rather them from us!"

Malfoy bowed again, his composure somewhat regained. "As you will it, it shall be done."

Voldemort nodded, and walked over to the body of the one person that had triumphed against him, who had defeated him at every turn up until that day. He waved his wand and the body levitated several feet in the air, turning to face him.

"Now Mr Potter. That only leaves you…"

He waved his wand again and the ground rose up from beneath the corpse, which spun slowly until it lied horizontally on a platform of raised earth. Voldemort waved his wand for the third time and the ground slowly rose to cover the body, before turning crystal, allowing everyone present to see the body once more.

Voldemort strode up to the tomb and, using his wand, carved _The Boy Who Died _onto the crystal surface, and then stood back, admiring his own work.

"Yesss…" he muttered. "This will do." He raised his voice once more and turned to the remaining Death Eaters who had not joined in the taking of Hogwarts. "Here, for evermore, will lie the body of Harry Potter, the Boy Who Died, to show the price of rebellion, of defiance, of all who dare oppose me."

The Death Eater's cheered and applauded his words, and continued to do so as others poured out of Hogwarts, captives in tow. Bellatrix strode up and bowed. "My Lord, we have searched every part of the castle, all have been assembled for your inspection."

Voldemort smiled. "You outdo yourself once again, Bellatrix. Have they been…sorted?"

"Those of pure blood are to the front, half-bloods after and… scum make up the last line."

Voldemort smiled and strode over to them, walking up and down the lines, inspecting each person in turn. He stopped when he came to two red-haired adults, crouching over an injured young man who could only be there son. "Greyback!" he called out. "These are yours." He continued his inspection, despite the screams of the rest of their children, and, chuckling to himself, walked back to Bellatrix.

"Take their children, along with… Longbottom and the rest of Potter's friends. Except for him…" he said, raising his hand and pointing towards a boy standing in the half-bloods section. "What is your name, my child?"

The boy paled and stuttered. "S..S..Seamus Finnigan."

The Dark Lord smiled and turned to Lucius. "Take him with you, find out what he knows, go into Ireland with an…understanding of the task before you. I know it's something you tend to forget."

He then turned back to Bellatrix and motioned for his Inner Circle to come forward, smiling as Bellatrix and Lucius were joined by the Carrows, Rookwood, Dolohov, Crabbe, Goyle, Avery, Jugson, Mulciber, Nott, Rowle, Macnair and Yaxley.

"I stand before you having achieved what we so long strived for: Victory! But now is not a time to rest on our laurels, but to continue our quest. We will be going to war, Britain may be ours, but the world is a large place. We have much more work to do." The Death Eaters cheered and proclaimed their support.

Voldemort then turned to his Inner Circle. "Bellatrix is to be given first choice of those assembled here. After that… well… organise it amongst yourselves, I have little interest. Those of pure-blood are to live, preferably half-bloods as well. As I said before, I care not about the… scum."

Bellatrix suddenly spoke up. "My Lord, I would have my niece, Nymphadora, along with the others you have selected."

Voldemort nodded. "Then you shall have them." He glanced over at the woman in question, her hand gripping that of a tired looking man. "And the man next to her? The werewolf."

The other Death Eaters smiled and chuckled, knowing full well Bellatrix's shame that her niece had married a werewolf. Bellatrix merely frowned. "He is of no consequence. Let Greyback have him. Give him to his own kind."

"Then let it be done. These events begin to irk me. Organise the rest amongst yourselves; do not disturb me until it is done. Come Nagini." He said, motioning to the huge snake that had been quietly following him throughout the "battle".

He walked through the giant doors leading into the Entrance Hall, up the flight of stairs and continued up to the third floor, before striding up to a gargoyle, blasting it off its pillar and ascending up a spiral staircase, before finally reaching the room he had been looking for. He strode into the Headmaster's office in silence, as the portraits of every Headmaster passed looked on.

He strode onwards, aware of their gazes, and sat down in the Headmaster's chair, as Nagini coiled herself around what had once been the stand used by Dumbledore's Phoenix, Fawkes. He lay back into the chair, and, for the first time in over forty years, Voldemort smiled a true smile.

_I have won._


	2. Chapter Two: The Other Minister

**Chapter Two: The Other Minister**

**(A/N) Hey guys! Delighted with how the first chapter of this story has gone down so am continuing with it. I hope you all will enjoy the route I'm taking with this tale. This story will contain many OC's but also all of the original Harry Potter characters that we all know and love. Each new chapter will be around 2,000 words long, as I've found that to be the most effective way personally. And it means I can update fairly regularly, which I'm sure you'll be glad to hear. ;) This story is going to be…much darker than most of the other fanfics you see here. Much…much darker. And it may not have a happy ending. You'll just have to keep reading in order to find out. As always,** **I don't own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters or places from the series, but do own any characters I create for use in this story. Anyway, here we go!**

**Review Responses:**

**DollyInTheSkyWithDiamonds: I know, it pained me to kill of McGonagall but I needed to do something to make this…darker than other fanfics. Here's the second chapter. I'm just sorry that it took me a long time to write it. :/**

**fanficgurl57: That is possibly the nicest review I've ever gotten. I'm glad you're happy with how I've portrayed the characters and written this story so far. And I really hope you enjoy this chapter. I hope you'll stay with me. I have big plans for this fanfic. **

**David Clarke**

The Taoiseach of the Republic of Ireland sat in his office, staring at the mounds of paperwork that had collected on his desk. He leant over and thumped his head against the desk's polished surface.

_This British affair will make or break my career… _He thought glumly, wondering how he could put a good spin on a huge outbreak in murders and assaults going on throughout the United Kingdom. The crime stats in Britain had been getting continually worse for the past two years, but it had only been over the last few months that they had exploded, unexplained crimes occurring throughout the island. Normally this wouldn't particularly bother him, sure, these stats were troubling, but the problem hadn't spread to the North yet, or so it would seem, and what was going on in Britain had little effect over here, unless it affected trade. However, many were afraid that this wave of crime would spread, something that even worried him.

How to deal with this? How to try to convince a nation of people when he couldn't even convince himself? He had almost completely slipped into his own personal pool of despair when a gentle cough interrupted his moment of self-pity.

He turned around wearily and stared at the portrait of the old man which hung on the wall behind him.

"What is it now?" He asked, bitterly. "Are they expecting me to try and solve their problems too?"

The man in the portrait took on a mildly affronted look before shaking his head slowly. "The new Minister for Magic wishes to meet you, sir. Can you spare the time?"

The Taoiseach knew better than to refuse, the question had been more for the sake of politeness than for granting him any real choice. He shrugged and waved his hand in dismissal. "Tell him to come in. After all, it's not like this day could get any worse!"

The man nodded, bowed slightly and disappeared from the portrait, presumably jumping to his other frame, or at least that was how the Taoiseach was given to understand. A few seconds later a man appeared out of the fireplace, giving him a slightly surreal and worryingly disturbing recollection of a past Christmas when his father had tried to surprise the family. He had definitely succeeded but possibly not in the way he had intended, having ended up dislocating her hip and breaking his collarbone. First time they had ever spent Christmas Day in the Accidents and Emergency ward, though sadly, not their last.

The man wore normal clothes, which slightly surprised the Taoiseach as he had become used to dealing with…people wearing an odd assortment of robes. This man however sported a pair of battered jeans, a t-shirt bearing the logo of some old rock band and worn trainers. More surprisingly, he couldn't have been over twenty.

The Taoiseach cocked his head as the man bent over, coughing up soot. When he eventually regained his composure there was a moment of awkwardness before the…other Minister smiled warmly and wearily gestured back towards the fireplace. "Floo network is on the fritz I'm afraid. The previous administration cut it after…well, after they knew they were going to lose. We've had a devil of a time trying to get it back online."

He looked around the office before shanking himself suddenly and turned to the Taoiseach once again, before dusting himself off and proffering his hand to the now baffled Taoiseach.

"I'm very sorry, I probably should explain first. I assume you've had the talk with one of my predecessors?"

The Taoiseach blinked slowly. "I'm sorry. The talk?"

The young man just shrugged. "You know…magic and all that. The existence of and whatnot."

"Oh." The Taoiseach began to nod. "Yes…not with the guy before you, but the one before him. Tiberius or something, wasn't it?"

"Tiberium. Alfred Tiberium. He was a good man…." The other minister drifted off, his face taking on a sombre expression, peaking his interest.

"Was? I thought he just lost the last election. The last one didn't say anything about him dying."

"No, he died all right. We buried him anyway…well…buried what we could find of him…" He paused for a moment, staring into the fire, before shrugging once more and continuing. "He was killed by the last…Minister that you talked to, Arthur Drake. Drake…was not a good man."

He drifted off again, his eyes losing focus. The Taoiseach stared at him for a moment before coughing gently, bringing the young man back to the situation at hand. "Why was Drake not a good man? He seemed…normal enough to me. For a…wizard at least. Maybe…slightly haughty, obnoxious. But nothing to suggest he was a murderer."

The other minister sighed. "Have you heard of…of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? You-Know-Who?"

The Taoiseach nodded slightly. "That…evil wizard? Over in Britain? The one who came back to life? Drake told me that it had all been a hoax. That it turned out some of his old followers were just trying to stir up trouble, and it had all been dealt with."

Shaking his head wearily, the other man replied. "Drake _was_ one of his followers. He…took power in Britain…almost a year ago now. Across the world, groups sprang up supporting him. Just like every time a new dark lord rises. They seized control in quite a number of countries, most of Eastern Europe, parts of Africa and Asia, some of the poorer South American countries. Here as well. There's huge uprisings going on throughout most of the rest of the world. The Dark Lord's men are everywhere."

He paused, running his hand through his hair. "A few weeks ago, a group of wizards in Britain made their last stand in Hogwarts, the main school for…witchcraft and wizardry in Britain, up in some deserted part of Scotland. Harry Potter… Do you know anything about him?"

The Taoiseach paused, racking his brains in an attempt to remember where exactly he had heard that name before. "Ah yes!" he exclaimed, remembering. "He was the one that killed You-Know-Who right? When…he was a baby?"

"Exactly. Only person to ever survive a Killing Curse. Caused a big stir in the magical experimentation community. Lot of time spent trying to replicate those results…but that's another story. He led the…rebellion, the last of the Order of the Phoenix, and the staff and many of the pupils of Hogwarts, against the Dark Lord's forces. Short story, they lost, and Potter's dead. Leaving the rest of the world without any real hope. But hey, that's life for you!"

The Taoiseach sat there, shocked, before finally mumbling. "The Order of the Phoenix?"

"Ah… yes. They were a group dedicated to opposing You-Know-Who. Set up by Albus Dumbledore, the old headmaster of Hogwarts, amongst others. They're mostly dead though I'd imagine…" He sighed before continuing. "I belong to a sister order of theirs. The Order of Augurey…actually, I guess I run it now."

He simply shrugged at the questioning look the Taoiseach gave him. "Battlefield promotion. Pretty much all my superiors died retaking the Ministry…My squad took the Main Hall, and managed to fight our way into the Minister's chambers. I killed Drake, so I guess that's the second consecutive Minister to be killed by his successor… Actually, that's kind of a worrying trend. I might want to beef up my security…"

He trailed off once more, causing the Taoiseach to cough again. The other minister jumped, startled. "Oh, I'm sorry, where was I? Oh yes, killing Drake. Well, most of my superiors where killed, and those that weren't, well, were too injured or simply unwilling to take the lead. I've rose pretty quickly, but…evil only triumphs when good men do nothing. That's a philosophy I've always believed in. And I won't stand idly by when people live in fear of other men. I've lost too many friends to that bastard as it is."

He glanced back up at his companion, his features suddenly hardening. "Anyway, we're expecting an attack to come from Britain over the next few days. You-Know-Who needs Ireland; he can't have an unoccupied area lying right next to him. So we're getting ready. I just felt you needed to know. Things might get…weird over the next few days. Strange things are going to happen… Impossible things. We're going to try to limit any battles to the countryside and sea, with low chance of civilian casualties. It's going to be brutal though… the next few days are probably going to be the worst. We have operatives in France meeting with their resistance movement. We're hoping they'll be able to take some of the heat off us."

The Taoiseach, stunned into silence by the young man's sudden transformation from bumbling, weary and easily distracted, to this general, dispensing battle plans and talking about possible casualties like it was no big deal, suddenly burst out. "What?! I don't understand? Are you suggesting that…we're going to be invaded by murderous wizards?"

He snorted, hoping to gain a chuckle from his younger companion, but the young man simply stared at him sombrely. "That's exactly what I'm saying, sir. From this moment onwards, we are at war."

He paused for a moment, allowing his words to sink in, before continuing. "You have to find a way to restrict travel from Britain to Ireland, at least until we can get support from the French. I doubt they'll use…non-magical travel, but it is still a very real possibility. And it's something we can't control. We don't have the numbers to police our airports and docks. We can no longer be relied on to protect the non-magical community, we've lost too many good wizards, and the forces arrayed against us are… well… the situation's pretty bleak at the moment. You'll need to inform your Cabinet, we can provide people to convince them if necessary. We need you're cooperation on this. United we stand and all that… And I'm also insisting on adding some of my people to your security. You wouldn't have a chance if they went after you."

"Do you really think that's a possibility?" A worried Taoiseach asked, sweat beading on his brow.

"No. It's a certainty. In every country You-Know-Who's Death Eaters have taken, they've adopted the exact same battle strategy. One: cause panic in the Muggle population. That's non-wizards by the way. Two: attack the centre of power in the magical community. Three: take over the main institute of education and begin the grand process of brain-washing the next generation. Sadly, step one involves killing you. So yes, you need the security. And don't worry; it's already been taken care of. My men and women have taken up jobs throughout this building over the past few weeks. Should anything happen, you'll be in safe hands…." He paused before adding, almost as an afterthought. "Well… the best that I could afford to spare at least… but… I'm sure they'll do the job.

He stood up and shook the stunned Taoiseach's hand. "It's been a pleasure to meet you, my father was a good Fianna Gael man… Although I think he believes your recent healthcare policies have been, to use his words, "Fucking idiotic."… Might be something you'd want to have a look at."

He turned away and made for the fireplace, taking a handful of silvery powder from the left pocket of his jeans, only stopping as the Taoiseach cleared his throat, about to ask one final question.

"Who are you?"

The young man turned around and smiled. "My name's David Clarke, leader of the Order of the Augurey, Ireland's Minister for Magic, and formerly an intern in the Experimental Magics Department of our military."

He paused for a moment, checking to see that he had used up all of his titles, and nodded slowly, smiling. He walked right up to the fire and said.

"But you can just call me the Other Minister."


End file.
